


Always A Bridesmaid

by triwizard_tardis



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Bram's a Good Boyfriend, Comfort, Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M, Nora might be slightly OOC, This has NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGE, they really should have popped the tags on that dress, thrift stores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triwizard_tardis/pseuds/triwizard_tardis
Summary: Nora takes the boyfriends shopping. It stirs up some unexpected feelings.





	Always A Bridesmaid

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own SVTHSA.
> 
> Now that that's over with: this is really kind of a snippet scene thing. I really wanted to play around with Simon's reaction to cross dressing from the book. It was so vivid and enboldened then it was never addressed again, and I just really wanted to look into it.
> 
> Also, I got my inspiration from this dialogue line prompt:
> 
> "I don't know why you don't like this outfit on you; you look splendid."

I honestly have no idea how I got here. Well, maybe not completely honestly. Nora wanted to take me and Bram thrift store shopping. Not regular shopping in a regular clothing store with her own regular friends where I could moan and groan about having to sit and watch her try on dozens of outfits because she and her giggling girlfriends would be regularly ridiculous, no. Nora wanted to "bond with [MY] boyfriend!" She needed to "get to know him" and "approve of him". All of this is code for mortify me in front of him, in case that wasn't obvious. So she took us thrift store shopping.

Even if it wasn't myself against her giggling regular friends, I still kind of expected to be subjected to standing awkwardly 'public-close' to my boyfriend, carrying piles of prospective clothing, Bram poised next to me with a hundred assorted shopping bags, watching Nora bounce around the store to get on my nerves.

I wasn't expecting this.

I don't know why I let her talk me into this; it is, was, and always will be a terrible idea.

Instead of lurking on the outside of the worn, old, hodgepodge, dark-wood dressing room door, slumping into an incongruous plastic chair, and trying to steal cuddles from Bram while my sister changed, I stand _inside_ the changing room like I had stuffed myself back into the closet. I hear a lull in the gabbing between my sister and my boyfriend before Bram's soft caramel voice carries over the beat up stall door.

"Are you okay in there, babe?"

I hear Nora giggle and whisper something about, "you call him 'babe'? That's so cute!" but honestly, and I'm really being honest now, I don't know that I can reply. Because I don't think I'm okay in here. It's just like I said it would be. The soft brush of satin dancing across my skin, tickling my abdomen with an intimacy to which only Bram should have the right now. The full, dare I say puffy, floor-length skirt hiding my unshorn legs, resting there but begging me gently to shave so I can properly feel the silky cloth gliding against them. The strapless, hidden-corset, bodice constricting my ribs weakly, like a constant bear hug. I feel so comfortable in the yellow resale bridesmaid's gown it scares me. Just like I knew it would. This was a holy terrible idea. A hollow knock rattles the driftwood style door, and I jump when I hear it.

"Simon," Bram whispers gently, if not slightly urgently, "can I come in?" I guess I never did actually answer his question.

"Sure," I say, and I wince at how choked I sound. He doesn't come in, and I almost ask him what he's waiting for before I realize I also never unlocked the door. Once I do, he slips in and closes it behind him to prevent Nora from peaking. I back away from him, and the full length mirror mounted on the side wall, folding my arms across my chest and trying to convince myself it feels tight because of the dress. Bram lets out a long, high whistle, and I hunch my shoulders in.

"I don't know why you don't like this outfit," he breaths in this mesmerized tone, "you look splendid."

And I collapse to the floor in tears like the dramatic tulip I am.

"Woah!" Bram shouts, as he falls down next to me to try and catch me. "Hey, what's going on?" He lifts my head with a hooked finger, and his gentle voice makes me sob, hard and ugly. He pulls me close to his chest and holds me there until I can pull myself together. When I feel like I can maybe breathe again, I pull away to try and explain myself.

"When you agreed with Nora that I should try this on, I figured you were probably just goading me; I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed."

Bram wipes my tears from my face as I croak. He hugs me gently, but pulls me back so he can look me in the eyes when he talks. Awful idea really, considering how easily I get distracted in those soft brown eyes.

"Babe, if you don't like the dress, just take it off."

"That's the thing though," I huff, trying to be subtle about the fact that I still haven't really caught my breath. "I do like it." I stutter a ragged laugh, "I really like it." Bram smiles brightly at me, catching a stray tear with his adorable, knobby thumb.

"Then what's the problem, baby," he coos, and I have to suck in a sharp breath to keep myself from breaking down again.

"Nora suggested I try on the dress in the first place because I used to wear them," I feel like I'm coming out all over again, "Not all the time, just on Halloween. I used to dress up as a flapper when I was a kid because it made my dad laugh, but I stopped a few years ago." I pause to give Bram the chance to ask questions; he just sits there patiently, one hand cupping my face, the other holding both of my hands in my lap, almost hidden by the folds of my dress. On the floor with his legs crossed like this, he looks like a very concerned six year old. I scoff at the thought, and that helps me to continue my story. "I don't know. One Halloween, when I was like eight or ten or something, I slipped into my flapper dress and realized just how good it felt to wear it. I'm not, like, trans or anything, not that that matters, but I don't know. I felt so comfortable in the dress," I find a way to look him hard in the eye when I say, "It was scary." He pulls me in for another hug and just holds me for a second.

When he pulls away again, he asks, "Tell me as honestly as you can: Would you like to take the dress off?"

All of a sudden, I can't find my words again. Drawstrings of fear pull my throat closed, so I shake my head instead.

"Do you want to buy the dress?"

I feel myself nod while my attention is focused on keeping the shame in my Adam's apple from choking me. Bram pries my shoulders back and wipes away a few more runaway tears.

"Let me help you out of the dress, so you can get changed, and we can pay for it."

Several minutes later, Bram and I emerge from the dressing stall in street clothes, Bram with the muted yellow gown folded into a bunch tucked under his arm.

"Aw! Si, I didn't get to see!" Nora whines when we finally come out. I'm surprised by the way Bram seems to step protectively in front of me placing a placating hand on her shoulder.

"I think this is going to be a private thing for Simon."

I try not to sigh in relief.

"But you got to see it," she fires at him, "and I'm his sister! Sisters are supposed to take precedent over boyfriends!" She nearly shouts that to me over Bram's shoulder, but still Bram merely sidesteps her to grab her attention.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think I'll be seeing it again," he promises, and I feel kind of bad that that might be true. Either way, Nora pouts for the entire drive home, but she doesn't push it any further.

As I sit in the passenger's seat next to Bram, staring down at the silvery box hiding the frankly enormous, seventy-five dollar, satin bridesmaid's gown, I feel a seventy-five pound weight lift up off my shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Just updated to make a few minor grammar/typo edits.


End file.
